Chapter Two – Research Is the Mother of Learning

That was the fifth in two days, Otis dutifully wrote in his notepad. Of course, there could be more since he wasn’t there all the time to spy on his neighbor. Also, standing in the hallway and always pretending to be busy with inspecting the light fixtures for signs that they needed changing – although that wasn’t something that fell within his responsibilities – was highly impractical. There was, as well, the matter of doing all this research on the downlow so that Hudson didn’t start to suspect that he was the main subject in the scientific endeavor Otis was conducting at the moment. It was only a vague idea, but he believed that his new neighbor might not take being spied on lightly.

One thing Otis had noticed was the reasonable level of attractiveness in the young men frequenting Hudson’s apartment. They seem to do fairly well in the muscle department and they wore tight clothes. Some had jewelry, such as ear studs, and some had tattoos. He was completely thorough in his evaluations and he wrote down all the aspects he considered important.

For instance, the average session for each date Hudson organized in his apartment was between half an hour and an hour. Briefly, Otis had thought that his neighbor might be running some sort of tattoo business in there, but that idea was quickly discarded. Peeking around the corner when the door to 505 opened to let the newcomer out, he had observed a certain degree of intimacy between Hudson and those young men. Supposedly, tattoo artists didn’t send their customers on their way with pats on the butt. Even if Otis knew close to nothing about the habits of such people, he thought it sound to conclude that those young men were Hudson’s dates.

Did Hudson have a Grindr account? The mere idea made it tempting to re-install the app and hunt for those sleeve tattoos; even if people there didn’t always show their faces, opting for other body parts, Otis was confident he’d be able to identify his very handsome neighbor. However, that app wasn’t for the faint of heart, which he was, and wading through a sea of naked bodies with all kinds of tags attached seemed like a perilous journey.

He pulled at the collar of his dress shirt. He was thinking of seeing his neighbor naked. It was, he convinced himself, nothing but an exercise in futility. That would never happen. He was basically the opposite of those attractive young men going in and out of Hudson’s apartment.

Lost in thought as he was, he missed the door opening to 505. He pulled himself back around the corner, but it felt like one moment too late.

***

Hudson waited for a full minute for Otis to emerge from behind the corner. Didn’t he realize that his shadow was giving him away? He had seen his neighbor from 508 sneaking around, armed with a notepad, and scurrying away the moment Hudson opened his door. That was odd; if Otis hadn’t been so strange in his mannerisms, Hudson would’ve suspected that his movements were being followed, which wasn’t a good thing, given the nature of his operation. Could it be only some strange curiosity? Or was it something else? His gut instinct lay dormant when it came to the attractive youth living a few doors away, but he couldn’t discard the signs. Otis, as in Otis like the elevator, was – not so low-key – stalking him. Hudson was curious about what that notepad contained.

It wasn’t like him to postpone making things clear. “You can come out,” he said loudly. Since Otis didn’t appear to understand that he was the one Hudson was talking to, he continued. “Come on. I can see your shoes.”

Finally, Otis peeked from around the corner. “You cannot. The angle is not right. And I’m standing far back.”

Hudson crossed his arms and gave the pretty fool a hard stare. “How about you pay me a neighborly visit right now?” He pushed the door to his apartment wide open.

“Right now?” Otis asked, seemingly oblivious that he had just been caught in the act. “I have work in an hour.”

“I’ll be mindful of that,” Hudson assured him. “Come on.”

Otis didn’t appear in the least disturbed by having had his cover blown and walked toward Hudson, the notepad under his arm. Then, he made a small stiff bow before walking into the apartment.

Was that too much trust? The young men who had crossed his threshold over the last few days knew what they were getting into. Hudson felt an unpleasant knot tying itself up in his gut at how obliviously Otis walked in. If he were a bad man, he’d be pleased with having such easy prey walk right into his trap. He shook his head. Going through the case file day and night had clearly made his mind work in nasty ways. What they said was true, investigators had to be able to put themselves in the perpetrator’s shoes to understand what motivated them, what made them act against other human beings. Whether or not that was healthy was a matter still up for debate.

He invited Otis into the small living room that served as his studio. There was a sofa, a camera set on a tripod, and other paraphernalia needed for his current line of business, lined up against the wall to the left and scattered on a table. Otis stopped for a moment, appeared to throw a quick look at the offending objects and then sat awkwardly on the sofa, only to get up a moment later, as if something had burned the seat of his pants.

“What?” Hudson asked gruffly. “I use a blanket when someone’s over.”

Otis blinked a few times and their eyes met. No, not their eyes. While Hudson used both of his to look at his visitor, Otis had his left eye covered, as seemed to be his habit. “There isn’t a blanket now,” he pointed out.

Hudson moved slowly and rested one hand on the camera. He swung his hips for a moment, while gauging the other’s reactions. Otis appeared to follow his every move with curiosity… no, it was more than that. The only exposed eye showed hints of awe and fascination. It felt a tad strange to be looked at like that. As the type of man used to getting plenty of appreciative looks from members of both sexes, Hudson felt a bit thrown by that particular interest shining in Otis’s startlingly beautiful eye. “Are you here for the same thing as the others?” he asked.

Otis looked at the camera, appeared to hesitate, and then shook his head. Hudson shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Why did he feel disappointed at that? Did he really expect his very prim and proper neighbor to walk in here and take off his clothes? That was crazy. “Why are you here?”

“You invited me for a neighborly visit,” Otis replied promptly.

“Right,” Hudson said dryly. This kid was too smart for his own good, it seemed. “Let me rephrase that.” As he said the words, he walked over to his visitor, grabbed the notepad out of his hand and pushed him back to sit on the sofa. “It’s clean, by the way. Why are you watching me?”

He moved back to a safe distance – safe for whom? – and began leafing through the scribbled pages. They were filled with timestamps and details about the guys who had visited him over the last few days. They weren’t all there, but the precision with each of the visits had been jotted down was impressive. “Do you have a thing for tattoos?” He looked at Otis, who sat there, hands on his knees, his back straight, as if he were just about to be questioned by a teacher.

“I do not,” Otis informed him.

“Who sent you?” Hudson asked and frowned in thought as his eyes glided over the next entries in Otis’s strange stake-out book. This visitor must have put something in his pants, because they bulged quite uncomfortably in front. He looked as if he had stuffed a raccoon in there. Do they bring raccoons on dates now?

That must have been the guy who had come with his own chastity device in place. Now that had been an interesting photoshoot. No raccoon, unfortunately, Hudson thought and looked at Otis pointedly. “Has the raccoon got your tongue?” he asked, barely keeping in a smile.

“No,” Otis replied and pursed his lips. Then, he inhaled deeply. He looked as if he was building up courage for whatever was next. “I want to ask you if you could help me and, if it wouldn’t be that much of a bother, provide me with some dating advice.”

“Dating what?” Hudson had considered that many different things, some of them undefined, could come out of Otis’s pretty mouth, but not that.

“Advice,” Otis shot the word out as if it was a toad he had almost swallowed by accident.

“And what makes you think you’re going to get that here?” Hudson asked, now partially relieved that his cute neighbor was simply odd, and not someone sent to watch his every move. However, he didn’t need that sort of complication, so he began to rip the pages from Otis’s notebook and then tear them into pieces.

“That’s not very nice. It doesn’t belong to you,” Otis scolded him.

“Maybe. But the things you wrote in here don’t belong to you, either.”

Otis appeared to ponder. Then, after some deliberation, he said, “That is true. I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable by spying on you.”

“So, you agree that you’ve been spying on me,” Hudson said.

“Yes. But it was for research. And research is the mother of learning. I need to learn.”

“What, exactly? My work schedule?”

Otis turned his head to look around, but only briefly. “What kind of work do you do, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I do mind. It’s nothing kids like you should know about,” Hudson said. The little neighborly visit was over, and he could safely send Otis back to his apartment.

“I am not a kid,” Otis said, carefully enunciating every word. “I am twenty-two years old.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. Come on, let me see you out.” Hudson gestured for Otis to get up.

Otis did, but not without reluctance. “What about the advice?”

“Look somewhere else, kid.”

Before Otis had a chance to protest again at being called that, Hudson took him by the arm, not too firmly, as his cute neighbor seemed like the kind to get startled easily. They were almost at the door when an energetic knock came.